Butterflies
by Intrepidwarriors
Summary: It ain't easy surviving high school


**Dedicated to the Third Biker Scholar...you inspired this!**

**BMFM copyright to their owners, creators, masters and teddy bears**

**Thanks Katy Perry for Teenage Dream – it helped my creative juices keep flowing on this one (lyrics copyright to her)**

**BUTTERFLIES**

**by Intrepidwarriors 2014**

He was doing it again.

Smiling that sexy smile of his.

Sending those butterflies lodged in her stomach fluttering frantically about.

She sighed, a little annoyed. She'd only _just_ managed to get the darn things to settle down.

It had been happening the entire class. She'd glance over, steal a peek at the object of her desire and he'd grin knowingly, sometimes throwing her a wink that would send the butterflies into a whirlwind, making it hard to concentrate on what the instructor was saying.

She couldn't help herself. He just looked so...so delicious...so tantalising in those denim jeans. Her gaze travelled the length of the fabric as it hugged the entire lower half of his body, from the lean waist down to the well-formed quadriceps, to the feet and up again via the rear side, starting at the muscular calves and finishing at the pinch-able gluteus maximus. Biology at its finest!

Doing her best to ignore the dazzling male leaning against the wall, Charlie forced her gaze back to the sandwich in front of her and took a bite, chewing with lacklustre appreciation.

It was bad enough she was mooning over him, but the fact he knew it was the hardest to bear.

Man, she hated high school! It never changed. Cafeteria food looked and tasted like road-kill, and the nerds got all of the teacher's attention.

Just like she wanted the attention of the hottest guy in school. Yep, nothing changed.

Disgusted, she threw the half-eaten sandwich down on the disposable plate it had sailed in on, giving up trying to guess what the contents had been in their pre-sandwich life. She grabbed the bottle of water next to it on the food tray and took a large sip, desperately trying to wash the film off her tongue from the undeterminable sandwich contents.

Glancing back, she knew what she would rather be doingwith her tongue than trying to masticate the beige play-dough that passed for a sandwich round here. Her eyes lidded as she imagined _exactly_ what she would prefer to be doing with said tongue. And this time round, it would definitely be a French class she wouldn't mind taking.

"_Voulez-vous français baiser cet homme?__ Ah Oui!__C'est le plan!"_

Moving her chair back, she grabbed the tray and walked over to the bins, dropping the remnants into the appropriate ones, the sandwich joining many of its half-limp cousins in the mulching bin. Satisfied she had done her bit for the environment, she turned to see if Motorcycle Monthly's pinup—boy had left, or if she could sneak in a final perv before class resumed.

He was no longer leaning against the wall, looking like every girl's version of a wet-dream.

No, he was standing right in front of her. And now he was putting long, lean fingers around her waist. And now his face was getting closer...and closer...and she was getting hotter...and there was so much less oxygen...so very much less oxy...her thoughts shut down when a pair of silky lips brushed against her ear.

"I'ma get your heart racing in my skin-tight jeans...be your teenage dream tonight...let you put your hands on me in my skin-tight jeans...be your teenage dream tonight" a male voice sung huskily against her ear.

Drawing back, he leered and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Charlie was torn.

On the one hand, class would be starting in just a couple of minutes.

On the other hand, she was pretty sure she was about to play hooky for the first in her life.

She ran her finger down his chest and grinned like a Cheshire cat.

"You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream...the way you turn me on, I can't sleep...let's run away and don't ever look back" she purred before she backpedalled him out of the cafeteria and into an unused classroom.

After locking the door, Charlie pinned her willing accomplice down on the teacher's desk, their lips finally speaking all the unspoken promises from the hours passed, files scattering in 360 degrees as they made themselves _very_ comfortable.

She was damned if she was going back for another second of Modo's 'Crochering for Beginners' night class.

There was being supportive, and there was being tempted to stab the needle through his sweet thick grey cranium she thought as she continued playing lip-hockey with her sexy husband.

_Google Translation: Will you French kiss this man? Oh yes, yes indeed! That's the plan!_


End file.
